


Angst Ficlets

by starsandsupernovae



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: ANGSTY ANGST ANGST, Angst, Avengers - Freeform, Developing Relationship, Established Relationship, Guardians of the Galaxy - Freeform, Major character death - Freeform, Multi, Stony - Freeform, Stucky - Freeform, assumed death, valmora
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-04
Updated: 2018-01-04
Packaged: 2019-02-28 03:44:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13262946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starsandsupernovae/pseuds/starsandsupernovae
Summary: Just what it says. All my angsty lil ficlets in one place. Different chapters different ships.





	1. Chapter 1

“We can’t do that.” Tony said, leaning back in his seat on the quinjet. “It’s not worth it. The numbers are clear-

“Numbers?! People’s lives are in danger, this isn’t a math problem, this is a situation that needs our help!

“If we go turn around now then we can’t get to Carnicia. And we’re needed more in Carnicia. It’s math Rogers. You can’t argue with that logic.”

“Math. Right.” Steve looked furious now, knowing that the team would end up listening to Tony, that they would end up following him.

“And here I thought you cared about the people. But it’s just all just a damn equation to you isn’t it? You’re not the hero everyone thinks you are. You’re no better than your father.”

Steve spat it out and regretted it instantly, Tony turning away, slamming his faceplate down but not before Steve could see the stricken look burned into his face.

“Open the back Natasha.” The suit distorted Tony’s voice, masking the hurt within. From the pilot’s seat Natasha opened the back, allowing Tony to move to fly out.

“Wait, Tony!” Steve called after him as he powered up his repulsors “I didn’t mean that. please, come back!”

But it was too late and Tony had already flew out.

You’re no better than your father.

The words kept reverberating through Tony’s head. As he fought the militants. As he flew home, not wanting to get into the quinjet with him again instead flying solo. It would piss Fury off, he always got upset when he flew over countries like that but he didn’t care. Why would he after all, he let out a harsh laugh within his suit, Stark’s didn’t care about other people, and he was one, he was stupid to think that he was any different, Captain America had said it himself, he was no better. No wonder he wasn’t considered proper for the avengers initiative at first, no wonder Fury hated him, no wonder Steve seemed to as well. No one could blame someone for hating someone who was no better than Howard. Tony would hate him too. He laughed again at this thought, realizing, that in fact, Tony did, hated himself for not doing better, for not being able to save everyone, for not being able to say the right things, for not being able to know the right answer, for not doing better. He landed at the compound, walking inside his armor taken off piece by piece as he progressed down the hall and, finally with all the armor gone, he began working to his workshop, before stopping. There, right in front of him, obstructing his path was Steve himself.

“Tony, I-”

“Save it, Rogers. And move out the way. I have work to do.”

Work to do. Like his father always had, like how his father too had used it as an excuse to get out of talking to anyone, especially his son.

“Tony, what I said before-”

“I heard what you said before. And you’re right, okay? Is that what you wanted?! Me to finally realize that I wasn’t a hero? Me to realize that I’m just my dad all over again? Congratulations. You got it. I know it, Steve, I know who I am, I know that I’m just as bad as him, I know that I’m not a hero like the rest of you. Now please excuse me. I have business to attend to.” He threw the line that had been tossed at him all his childhood like a weapon and forced his way past Steve to get to his workshop. He heard Steve try to say something behind him, knew that the right thing to do would be turn around and listen, but why would he do that? After all his father wouldn’t care. And he was no better.


	2. Stucky -Did I do something wrong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> some steve/bucky angst

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so I was thinking- what if Bucky, while being with Hydra has had various handlers and what if to make sure he can never trust anyone they have some of them pretend to be nice to him at first so he learns not to trust kindness b/c it only ends in pain?

He was trying to be good he really was. He knew how to follow orders. He wasn’t stupid. He didn’t know what the repercussions were if he misbehaved yet, there had been no punishment since his handler had switched but he knew better then to hope, knew each handler came along and made their own changes, knew each had their own brand of punishment. But this new one was confusing, and he didn’t know how much longer he would be able to keep doing what the handler wanted, especially since the handler didn’t seem to give direct instruction.

He walked into the room then, his handler, walking over to where he was sitting on the bed.

“Hey, Bucky.”

Bucky was his new codename now. It seemed familiar somehow and Bucky had wondered if it had been used before, if perhaps another time before he had been wiped he had had that codename.

“We’re having dinner now, do you want to come join?”

That was another thing, the questions. The handler- no “Steve” he wanted to be called, kept phrasing his instructions as questions, and Bucky wondered if that was part of the torture of keeping him waiting for punishment, of pretending he had a choice in things, of pretending as though he was safe. But Bucky was smart. He knew what to do when they pretended to ask him a question. He nodded once, unsure if he had permission to speak. Steve smiled at this a little and Bucky knew he had acted correctly. That was good. It was important not to do anything wrong. Bucky stood and followed Steve to the dining room where the other members of the team were sitting. Steve sat down, next to an extra seat.

“Bucky? You can come sit here.” Steve looked at him, standing in the corner as he was supposed to, apparently confused, and Bucky was upset at himself now, he was supposed to be sitting, why hadn’t he known that, why hadn’t he done that. He quickly rectified his mistake sitting next to Steve as indicated. The conversation flowed around him, he not taking in a word of it as he had not been addressed or told to listen. He, of course, did not take any food, even when it was passed by him, he knew what the right thing to do was, knew that if there was enough food for the asset that it would be given directly to him, knew that the food went to the people first, the weapons were taken care of afterwards. He waited stoically until people were finished, noting his surroundings, noting how Steve kept looking at him, almost sadly. Bucky wondered if he had asked not to be assigned to him, if Steve was upset to have to look after him. He hoped not. Those were the people who punished the most, those who could never be satisfied with Bucky’s efforts, not when they hadn’t wanted to deal with a weapon who needed so much care at all. Steve walked him back to his room and Bucky sat back down on his bed, knowing that Steve seemed to be happier when he sat somewhere. Steve came over and sat on the bed next to him.

“How much did you remember today?”

Bucky’s mind raced. Here was a question he had to answer, not a yes or no question, so many answers, how was he supposed to know which was the right answer, the answer to avoid punishment? Was there one?

Before he did answer, Steve, noting his barely detectable terror, changed the question.

“Do you know who I am, Buck?” His voice had cracked a little as he asked.

“You’re Steve. My handler.” Bucky answered, relieved. He knew this. He could answer this. “I take orders from you.”

Steve’s eyes widened and when he began speaking, Bucky heard something in his voice, some deep sadness that he couldn’t figure out.

“No, Bucky. I- oh god, I’m not- You don’t have to take orders from me Bucky. I’m not your handler. You’re never going to have to have a handler again. I promise you. Never again.”

“Did I do something wrong?”

The words seemed to harm Steve, he looked so hurt,and Bucky knew he shouldn’t have asked questions, he knew that, he shouldn’t have asked.

“No! No, Bucky, you didn’t do anything wrong. You’re fine. You’re doing so well since you got here. Why would you think you did something wrong?”

“No more handlers.” Bucky was confused now. “You’re deactivating me. Like all the broken weapons.”

Steve stared at him, as though trying to figure out what to say, looking as though someone had just stabbed him and Bucky didn’t know why, wished he knew why, he was definitely going to be deactivated now that he was hurting Steve, asking questions and giving wrong answers.

“Bucky, you’re not a weapon. And I will never deactivate you. I- I love you Bucky. And I’m not ever going to give up on you. You don’t need a handler, because you are free now. You can do whatever you want.”

Steve spoke passionately and Bucky wondered why he was putting so much effort into the performance

“You did nothing wrong. Okay, Bucky? Nothing wrong.” He sounded almost pleading and Bucky nodded, back on firm ground. He knew how to answer these questions.

“Okay.”

Steve smiled at him, a small hopeful turn of his lips, and Bucky wondered how long it would be until they dropped the facade and revealed his true task. He knew how to follow orders. He wasn’t stupid.


	3. Stony-I loved you

Tony walked slowly, flowers heavy in his hand as he made his way to the graveyard. He felt like he was forcing his way through a fog as he struggled to reach his destination, a small grave near the end, no fancy statue, no intimidating monument-they had those, but not here, he wouldn’t want them in his final resting place. Not strictly speaking that this was it. They never had given back the body, only proof of death, damn them. He stared down at the headstone, the simple slab of stone that marked his lover’s final resting place. Flowers were piled high around it, leaves and petals piling up higher then the actual stone, from the masses that had come to pay their respects to the greatest man America had known, to the greatest man Tony had ever loved. Tony set his down gingerly, reading the inscription etched into the hard granite.

_Steven Grant Rogers._  
_1918-2018_  
_A great soldier. A good man_

The only indication that he had been the first avenger, Captain America, was the shield design along the top.

He would have wanted this, Tony thought, he wouldn’t have wanted the designs that had initially been put forth, great, tall monuments, about being America’s hero. He had been. But that was the least of what he had been, he had been more than a hero, he had been a person, and a good person and that was rarer than a hero, any old fool could pick up a shield. It took a man like Steve had been to be better than a hero. Tony stood back up and stared for a moment before beginning to talk.

“Hey, Steve.” he shifted a bit, making sure he was alone in the graveyard as he spoke.

“We all really miss you. I think DUM-E still thinks you’re just going to walk into the workshop one day. He keeps preparing that smoothie he thought you liked. I can’t blame him I guess, hell, some days I expect you to just walk in. I need to stop that. You would want me to stop that. I think.” He stopped for a moment, head bowed over the stone trying to collect his thoughts.

“Everyone keeps saying that. ‘Rogers would have wanted this. Steve would have wanted that.’ But sometimes, I just don’t know. And I can’t ask you. I should have done that more, I should have asked you things, I should have talked to you more. I was scared, I guess. Me, the great Tony Stark, was scared and now it’s too late. I loved you, did you know that? Sometimes I thought you did. But I never said it because what if you didn’t say it back?” He sighed deeply, trying to choke back whatever lump had risen in his throat.

“I wish I had said that now. Even if you hadn’t said it back. I loved you, Steve. I loved you so much. And now you’re gone, and I’m never going to get to tell you that.”

He turned away, slowly before leaving to the car waiting for him, driving quickly away.

 

And somewhere, deep underground, in a building of darkness and steel, Steve Rogers was chained to the wall in a room devoid of warmth, of light, of anything but a small screen playing video and audio. And for the first time since his capture, looking at the screen, the video taken from the graveyard, the ever stoic Captain America felt a tear running down his cheek.


	4. Buckynat-“don’t you dare pin this on me!”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> okay so i’m not entirely sure what happened here? just know that Natasha’s memories of the Red Room days are full of gaps that should probably stay empty.

“Do you remember me?”

Bucky looked up from where he was sitting in his room to see Natasha leaning on the doorway.

“I didn’t hear you coming.” he remarked, swiveling in his chair to face her.

“No one ever does.” her response came, equally casual.

“Must be useful.”

“It is.”

The two of them stared at each other, neither of them ready to break the silence or the gaze.

“You remembered me.” Natasha finally said. “In the field when we were fighting and I almost got shot. You yelled my name.”

“Yeah.” Bucky dropped his gaze away from hers. “I warned you. So I yelled your name. So what?”

“You didn’t yell Natasha or Widow though.” She wasn’t letting it go, wasn’t looking away. “You called me Natalia. You know who I am. You remember.”

He was practically squirming away from her gaze now, unwilling to meet her to let his eyes betray the truth. Because he did remember her. He remembered all of it. But she didn’t, not everything. And he knew that if he told her, if they sat down and talked about it, she would remember too. And he could never do that with her, he loved her too much to break down the walls that he knew she had constructed to protect herself from those memories, no matter how much it was killing him that she didn’t know exactly who he was, exactly what they had gone through together.

“I remembered your name. Nothing more.” he said. “I’m sorry you’re reading too deeply into that.”

“No.” Natasha kept her voice steady, nothing in her voice betraying that she was a moment away from breaking down that he was keeping this from her, that the man she loved would prefer to pretend he had no idea who she was rather than admit whatever truth he had.

“This is isn’t me projecting. Don’t you dare try to pin this on me.”

“I don’t know you!” Bucky all but cried out, each word piercing him deeply, even as he saw them hit her. “Just stop this okay? I. Don’t. Remember. You.”

Natasha’s expression was frozen, a stoic expression that to anyone who knew her intimately, to Bucky, meant that she was in pain, a pain that she was unwilling to share but was tearing her apart.

“No.” she repeated again softer now. “I know you remember me. You always remembered me. We remembered each other. Even when we forgot everything. Even when we knew nothing. We knew each other.”

“Well now we don’t.” Bucky muttered, wanting so much to tell her, to share the pain in his heart, ever increasing with every word he forced out. But he couldn’t do that to her, couldn’t force her to remember any more then she already did. Even if those new memories he would bring back included some of him. He saw her give up, stalk out, heard her for a moment as she left, not nearly as quietly as she had come in. He wanted to run after her, to tell her the truth, but instead he just sat back in his seat and stared at the floor, letting his own terrible memories play out in front of his eyes for the thousandth time. It was better this way.


	5. Valmora "this wasn't supposed to be this complicated."

Valkyrie laughed as she spun, bringing down her sword, reveling in the fight, alongside her- she glanced over to her right at Gamora her smile growing wider- girlfriend.

Gamora, focusing on the chimes of her laughter through the cacophony of battle, cast a fond look at her partner as she tore the head off some robot trying to decapitate her.

“Having fun?” she called over.

“Alongside you? Always.”

But it wasn’t just fun, fun couldn’t hold a candle to how Gamora made her feel, to how special she felt when she was near. It wasn’t supposed to be like that, it was never meant to be that complicated, they were just meant to be casual partners, just meant to fight together, nothing more. But Gamora had found her while she was still trapped behind the walls she had carefully constructed around herself, and in her own way, slashed them down from the outside, convincing her to break out from within. She lost herself in the memories for a moment, Gamora forcing her to step outside her comfort zone, to go to different planets for more than war, for new experiences, for new people. Which was her mistake. For as she wasn’t fully attentive to her surroundings, an automaton jumped from behind her, reaching out with it’s blade, too fast for even Valkyrie to stop him, too fast for Valkyrie to register what was happening, too fast for Valkyrie to see Gamora lunge in front of her intercepting the blade with her body, falling down in front of Valkyrie, blood spurting from her wound.

Around them the battle raged, the guardians and revengers shooting and slashing, but to Valkyrie, in that moment there was nothing, nothing but herself and her fallen lover, lying at her feet as Valkyrie sank to the ground next to her, one thought reverberating through her mind.

_Not again. I can’t do this again. Please not again._

“Valkyrie. Brunhilde.” Gamora smiled up at her weakly, her whisper somehow reaching through the sounds of battle that was just so much more noise in Valkyrie’s ears now, so unimportant compared to what was happening now.

“Gamora. Please. Please don’t leave me.” Valkyrie was leaning over her, gathering Gamora in her arms, cradling her head against her chest as she sat on the blood soaked floor. “Gamora, please.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t say that! Don’t be sorry, stay with me!” Valkyrie blinked back hot tears as she looked down at Gamora, but she knew the truth, knew the poison from the blade had already begun working, knew there was no antidote, knew that Gamora wouldn’t make it out of this, knew that she would be left alone again.

“I’m sorry.” Gamora repeated again, her voice draining away. “I love you so much. And I’m sorry.”

Valkyrie wanted to scream, to tell her to stop stop apologizing, stop dying, just stop and be okay, jump up like it was just another battle scar in the making. But she could do none of that, just hold her closer, as Gamora continued in labored breaths.

“Please. Be strong for me Brunhilde. Don’t cut yourself off again. Don’t run away. Even when it hurts. Please do that for me.”

Valkyrie just looked back at her, a wild hopeless look in her eyes.

“Gamora…”

“I love you, Brunhilde. Don’t you ever forget that.” Gamora shut her eyes then, sinking down, and Valkyrie felt it, her pulse slowing to a halt, her breath stopping in her chest. She gently lay her down, getting up and slowly backing away. The battle had abated by now and the rest of their teams were coming over, dawning realization casting horrible looks on their faces. She surveyed the scene, trying to come to her senses through the fog that seemed to have descended.

_Don’t run away_

She wanted to stay, she wanted to be strong, she wanted that so much. But it hurt, and it was too much, it was overwhelming her, it was happening again, she was left alone, the woman she loved was gone, and she was screaming now, a roar of pure mourning and anguish that she couldn’t stop, and the team was backing away, not wanting to approach and they shouldn’t, she was a creature of rage now, rage born from pain, she wasn’t a person to approach, a person to care for, a person to love. Through the red mist that seemed to have blanketed the world she saw them moving away from her, and she looked back at Gamora’s broken body on the ground. It was never meant to be this complicated. Never meant to hurt this much.

_Don’t run away_

“I’m sorry.” Now it was Valkyrie whispering it, to the ghost Gamora had left behind, to whatever memories were yet remaining. “I’m so sorry.”

Valkyrie ran.


End file.
